To Be Human
by doxy-phobic lycanthrope
Summary: After six years of isolation and abuse, young Remus is given the chance to be human. Far from his mother and stepfather, he will make friends, make mischief, and maybe even blow the world's socks off. Rated T for physical and verbal abuse.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This is my first attempt at a long, open ended story. I don't know how faithful I will be in updating, but I hope you will enjoy reading it. I am uploading the first two chapters today, and chapter three is almost done. After chapter three, I hope to update at least once a month.

This is slightly AU, since the Harry Potter books imply that Remus's parents actually took pretty good care of him.

Disclaimer: I don't own any Remus, the Mauraders, Hogwarts, St. Mungos, Dumbledore, or any of the other things you recognize. They all belong to J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 1

1965

Pain

Confusion

Fog

Remus opened his eyes and blinked several times as he tried to remember what was going on. Everything seemed blurry. His entire body hurt, especially the left side of his waist. He was in a bed. A blanket was pulled up to his chin, but it didn't feel like his blanket at home. It didn't sound like his bedroom either. It was too noisy, like he was in a bigger room with other people around. He heard quiet voices nearby. He tried to hear what they were saying, but the words didn't make any sense.

"…wolves… dangerous creatures …no way to know… personality…"

"…safe? … my daughter… safety of the family…"

"If you … at home… important to control… behavior… violence…"

"… about… full moon? … deal with…monster…"

"… lock it up… basement or cellar… spells… can't be merciful… for the faint at heart…"

There was silence for a few minutes. Remus blinked and tried to focus on something. He found that he was lying on his right side, looking at a metal railing next to his pillow. How odd… The voices continued to talk behind him.

"Now, if you decide not to keep him, there are several packs in Britain that would take him. I am sure everyone would understand…"

"I am not allowing my son to run wild! If responsible people had taken control of these creatures in the first place, my family wouldn't be here right now." Remus suddenly realized that his voice belonged to his mother! He felt safer with her nearby, but he wondered why she sounded so angry.

"I feel for your loss. I really do. Those within the ministry who have sense have been trying to lock them up for years, but some politicians insist on treating them like _humans_. Just makes it harder for the rest of us, if you ask me."

"Well, I am not going to let another family suffer like this. He will stay with me, whatever it costs, and I will deal with him."

"Bless you, my lady. You are a saint… I will alert the ministry of your decision. They will be in contact with you about registration and provide you with safety information."

"Thank you."

Remus heard feet walking out of the room. It must have been a big room, because it to the feet a long time to reach the door. After a door opened and shut and the feet were gone, he tried to move again.

His mother must have seen him stirring because she took a step towards his bed. "Remus? Are you awake?"

Remus whimpered in reply as he tried to roll over. "No, don't move," his mother said. "You'll mess your bandages up."

Remus swallowed hard. His mother's voice sounded strange, like she was scared and sad. He was scared, too, and his side was hurting really bad now. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a soft whimper.

Remus's mother came around to the right side of the bed, so he could see her. She stood next to him and looked at the wall. She took a deep breath, and Remus was suddenly afraid that she was going to be angry with him. "Remus, listen to me. I'm sorry, but things are going to have to change. You are going to be different now because you got bitten by a monster. Do you remember the monster that bit you?"

Remus gasped. Suddenly, he did remember. It seemed like a strange nightmare, but he did remember. He had been gone outside with his dad, to put get mom's extra cauldron from the shed. Remus asked his dad why it was so dark when they hadn't had tea yet, and Daddy had said that night came early because it was winter. He had been standing there shivering in his coat, while Daddy dug through the shed. He had enjoying the adventure, since he had never been allowed outside in the dark before. Suddenly, there had been a noise in the bushes next to the shed. He had felt scared and called out for Daddy. Dad came from the shed with his wand raised. Something sprung from the bushes, and he heard his Dad yelling and his mom screaming from inside the house. The next thing Remus knew, he saw his Dad on the ground, and a great, big dog was pouncing on him. The pain and the noise had overwhelmed him, and he couldn't remember anything else…

"Mummy?" Remus whimpered. "Where is Daddy?"

She took another deep breath. "Daddy is gone. He is not going to be around anymore."

Remus started to cry. "Mummy…" He stretched out his arm to her, wanting her to hold him. She stepped away. "Mummy!" He started to cry harder.

"Stop, Remus. You mustn't behave like this anymore. You are not a child anymore."

Remus didn't understand. He had been a child yesterday. He was only five! Surely he hadn't become a grown up already! He screwed up his face and rubbed his eyes with his hands. He wanted to go home. He wanted his mummy to stop being so angry. He wanted her to give him a potion to make his side feel better. He wanted to see his Daddy and his little sister.

"Mummy," he sniffed, "is Elen okay?"

"Yes, Helena is fine," his mother said shortly. Finally, she turned to look at him. "I must go talk to the healers. Go back to sleep." She turned towards the door and left her son alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All _Harry Potter_ characters, places, and plot material are property of J.K. Rowling. I am not J.K. Rowling. Therefore, these things do not belong to me.

Chapter 2

Six Years Later

Remus straightened up and rubbed his back after carrying his things up to his new bedroom. It wasn't so much a room as it was a corner of the attic where his stepfather had pushed aside the boxes to make room for a cot, but Remus liked it. It was cozy and out of the way. Ever since his bite, he had learned to like finding out-of-the-way spots where he could relax without upsetting his family. Now, this would be his permanent home.

Until this morning, he had occupied the same bedroom that had been his since before he was bitten. His mother had made clear to him that he didn't really deserve his own bedroom, and she took advantage of the "spare" room by piling boxes of old clothes and Christmas decorations to one side, leaving just enough space for his bed and chest-of-drawers, but at least he had a bed. Then, yesterday, Remus's mother had made an announcement: she was going to have a new baby, and Remus would have to move out of his room to make room for the new family member.

"Hurry up, boy! I want to get these boxes moved!" Remus heard his stepfather yelling for him and hurried to put his possessions in a neat pile next to his cot. He could arrange them later. Then he hurried down to move the other boxes- the Christmas decorations and such- from his old bedroom to another corner of the attic.

"Now listen, boy," his stepfather said as he came down the attic stairs. "I want you to get all those boxes upstairs, and then move the chest of drawers to the center of the room. Dust the window and the baseboards and the door frame. I will be back later to move the bed and those shelves. You better get it all done because we want start decorating while you're an invalid and we don't want to wait on you."

Remus nodded and said, "Yes, sir." He had about five hours until tea, so he should be able to get all of it done. He moved towards the pile of boxes, picked up the first one, and stumbled back slightly under its weight. He glanced at his stepfather and saw him smirking. Setting his jaw, he shifted the weight slightly so that it was easier to balance and walked slowly towards the door.

As Remus made it into the hallway, his stepfather called out laughingly, "Hey boy, put your wolf strength into it." Out of nowhere, the man's foot connected with the back of Remus's knee, and he fell over backwards as his knees buckled, the box falling on top of him.

He lay there a few seconds, waiting for his vision to clear, as he heard his stepfather laughing above him. Finally, as he pushed the box off his chest and struggled to get up, the laughter stopped. "Hurry up and get those boxes upstairs!" his stepfather barked and then turned to go down to the living room.

Remus was used to this treatment. Three years after his father's death, his mother had remarried. His stepfather's name was Clint Ward. Remus's sister Helena called him Clint or occasionally Dad, but Remus only called him Sir. Like Martha, Clint despised the werewolf boy that they were forced to house, but his stepfather was a bit more _violent_ with his hatred. Whereas Remus's mother made clear that the less contact she had with him the better, Clint seemed to gain a perverse sort of satisfaction from his stepson's suffering.

By the time Remus had carried three boxes up to the attic, he was starting to doubt his original confidence in this job. He only had seven boxes left, but his back muscles were already screaming, and the rest of his body was beginning to ache in unison. Tonight was the full moon, and he had just over six hours until moonrise- four and a half hours if he wanted to make it to tea, which he needed to since he hadn't been given any lunch and the wolf would be more violent if he was hungry. It seemed his stepfather always found the most grueling tasks for him to do the day before the full moon. He often wondered if it was by chance or if this was a calculated part of his quest to make Remus's life miserable.

He took a quick drink from the bathroom faucet and splashed some water on his face, then returned to hauling boxes. It took him another hour and a half to haul the rest of the boxes up to the attic. When he finished he was drenched with sweat and nearly shaking from exhaustion, but he was glad the task was finished. Now the only hard task he left to do was moving the chest-of drawers. He studied for a few minutes and decided the only way to move it would be by grabbing it around the bottom and dragging one side at a time.

After several times dragging and changing sides, he was out of breath and shaking again, and he had only moved the dresser a few inches. He sat back on his heels and thought for a minute, then it came to him. Magic! Of course, Remus wasn't a real wizard, and he never would be, as his parents constantly reminded him, but he had done accidental and not-so-accidental magic several times over the years. A few months ago, when his mother had made him go sweep snow from back garden patio without a coat as punishment for not finishing the breakfast dishes on time, he had concentrated really hard on making himself warm, and a cloud of warmth had come and surrounded him. If only he could harness his magic again, he could move the chest-of-drawers before his stepfather came back.

He stood up, and concentrated really hard on making the chest-of-drawers levitate. He stared at them as hard as he could and stretched out his hands towards them. Nothing happened. He closed his eyes and pictured the chest-of-drawers going up into the air and floating forward. He opened his eyes and nothing had happened. Maybe he needed a magic word? He tried to think of a good magic word for this situation. "Levitate!" he said as confidently as he could. It didn't work. "Chest-of-drawers move!" Nothing.

He heard a creak on the stairs, and his heart picked up. His stepfather was coming back. He closed his eyes and concentrated as hard as he could. He heard a voice on the steps as his stepfather said something to someone downstairs. This was his last chance. He had to do it now!

He opened his eyes, and was slightly shocked to see the chest-of-drawers floating two inches off the ground. He smiled slightly, but then chest-of-drawers started to sink. His pulse picked up again, and the chest-of-drawers floated back up and began moving forward. His heart was in his throat now. The chest-of-drawers was almost to the center of the room.

"What do you think you are doing?" a voice said menacingly behind him. He jumped and the chest-of-drawers clunked to the ground. He slowly turned around to see his stepfather glaring at him. "What - do you think - you are doing?" he asked slowly.

"I… I was t-trying t-to m-move the chest-of-drawers…"

"You were, were you?"

"I'm sorry. I j-just didn't want you to be angry that I didn't move them."

"You didn't want me to be angry? You know what I'm angry about?" His stepfather bent down and put his hand on Remus's neck, pulling him forward until their faces were inches apart. "I'm angry about you acting like you are some sort of wizard when you know good and well that you are a monster that has no business even _living_ in wizard household. If it wasn't for wanting to protect the rest of the world from your fangs, we would have put you on the street years ago. So you think you can just go around levitating furniture because you happen to have a little magic blood in your veins?"

Remus swallowed. He knew he was about to be punished. He only opened his stepfather would be merciful this time.

He picked Remus up back his neck, swung him around, and slammed him against the wall. He rained down couple of blows on his face, and released him, letting him fall to the ground. This was followed by several kicks to his chest and stomach, as he brought his arms up to desperately cover his face. Finally, the kicks stopped, and he felt his stepfather kneeling over him. Remus's vision was still filled with stars, but he could vaguely see a wand pointing at his face. This stepfather murmured a spell, and suddenly he couldn't breath. He tried to inhale, but it seemed like his lungs were closed off. He started to panic slightly as his stepfather came closer and spoke softly.

"You are not a wizard. You are a monster. An animal. You will never use magic for anything up destruction, and you will certainly not do that in my house! Now, I am going to move the other furniture, and then, I am going back downstairs, and every surface in this room had better be impeccable by the time you go down to the cellar tonight, do you understand?"

Remus couldn't speak, but he nodded fervently.

"Good," he said, shoving Remus against the wall on more time for emphasis. Remus heard the sounds of the furniture moving, and tried to get up, but he still couldn't breath, and he was beginning to get tunnel vision. Finally, his stepfather finished with the furniture and turned back towards him. "Finite incantatem." Air rushed into Remus's lungs, and he heard his stepfather walking out of the room and down the stairs. He sighed with relief.

He tried to get to his feet but swayed dangerously. He stopped and braced himself against the wall until his vision cleared and he had caught his breath. Then he stumbled down the hall into the bathroom. The beating hadn't been as bad as it could have been, but with the full moon on top of him, he felt half dead. He tried to concentrate on the task ahead of him- dust the bedroom, get Clint's approval, and then go to the attic and pass out until tea time. He had two and a half hours. He could do it.

The bathroom mirror confirmed what he already could feel- a busted lip and a bruise forming above his left eyebrow. He splashed some water on his face and fetched two rags from the cupboard- one for his lip and the other for dusting. He dampened both of them in the sink and stumbled back to the bedroom.

Two hours later he was done. He had dusted the window, the door frames and the baseboards, and he even dusted off the shelves for good measure. He looked around the bedroom and nodded with satisfaction. There was nothing here for him to be punished for.

He went cautiously down the stairs, careful not to disturb his mother, who he could hear in the kitchen. Clint was sitting in his armchair, reading the _Daily Prophet_. Remus stopped several feet from his chair. "Sir?" he said quietly.

Clint's head snapped up. "What?"

"I-I'm done with the dusting."

"Really?" He glanced towards the stairs, as if wondering if he should go check the work. Apparently he decided it wasn't worth the trouble. "Okay. Go." He turned back to his paper.

Filled with relief, Remus turned towards the stairs. As he started up the stairs, his stepfather spoke again. "I will be going up to check it later. If I find it not satisfactory, the will be hell to pay tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir." Remus sighed as his continued up the stairs, knowing that there would be hell to pay tomorrow either way. His stepfather never needed an excuse to torment him the day after the full moon.

Finally, he made it to the attic. He tossed he soiled rags in his laundry basket and flopped onto his cot. Within a few minutes, he was asleep.

* * *

There was a soft knock at the attic door. After a second the door opened and Remus's sister stuck her head in. "Tea is ready, Remus," she said.

"Thanks, Elen," he said weakly, sitting up and rubbing his face.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "Your face doesn't look good."

"Well, thanks, you look beautiful, too," he said cheekily. He got up and slowly walked towards the door.

"Is this where you live, now?" she asked, looking around the attic with wide eyes.

"Yeah. It's okay. I like it."

"It's awfully cold."

"It's not that bad. I have blankets."

Elen looked at him questioningly, but didn't say anything else. She knew by now that her big brother didn't like her worrying. By the time they got to the steps into the living room, she was humming and skipping by his side, her light brown curls bouncing on her head.

Elen was three years younger than Remus and, as Clint liked to say, "cute as a button." Clint adored his adopted stepdaughter. He always called her Elen, except for when she was in trouble; then he would call her Helena Iris Ward (which became her full name the day that Clint had adopted her and married her mother). Martha always called her daughter Helena, which she said was a name worthy of the dignified young woman Helena would grow up to be. Remus never called his sister Helena; neither had his father. "Sounds like an old lady's name," he could remember his father saying jokingly. Remus remembered the story of how his parents had chosen his sister's name. "I wanted to name her something cute, like Iris, but your mother had her heart set on the name Helena. So, we decided to name her Helena Iris Lupin, and I would call her Elen for short. And _that_ is what you call a compromise," Mr. Lupin would say with a smile.

They entered the kitchen, and both children found their seats quickly. Clint and Martha both smiled at Helena and ignored Remus. This was the usual for mealtimes. Martha ignored Remus as much as possible, and Clint knew better that to draw attention to the boy in front of his wife or to mistreat him in front of his daughter. After everyone else had filled their plates, Remus was allowed to fill his plate will small servings from the dishes directly in front of him. He dare not ask his sister to pass him the peas, which were on the other side of the table, but he did not really feel like eating green vegetables tonight anyway. He nibbled at his chicken and tried to force himself to eat some of his bread, but everything felt try and tasteless, like it always did before the full moon. He wished he could have some gravy, but the gravy dish was sitting across the table, next to Clint.

"Could you please pass me the gravy, Clint?" Elen said sweetly.

"Of course, dear," he said with a smile.

"Thank you." She poured a small amount of gravy on her chicken, and placed the dish casually between herself and Remus.

As soon as Clint turned his attention back to his conversation with Martha, Remus grabbed the gravy dish and poured the smooth, savory sauce all over his chicken and bread. He cast a sideways glance at Elen and saw her smiling. He tried a bite of the chicken. It still didn't taste quite right, but then again, it never did. At least now it was moist and tasted meatier. He managed to clean his plate.

After dinner, Clint told him to wash up the dishes. He glanced nervously at the clock. It was one hour until moonrise. He hurried to draw hot water in the sink so that he could get to work.

Mother and Elen when into the living room, but Clint stayed behind to watch Remus work. He leaned against the kitchen table, making little noises to constantly remind Remus of his presence. After a few minutes, he casually walked over to the dish rack and picked up a wooden spoon. He began meandering around the area near the sink, quietly slapping the spoon against his palm.

Remus knew he was only doing this to bother him, but he also knew that the spoon might be put into action at his stepfather's whim. He ignored him and continued with the dishes. Gradually, the slapping noise got closer and closer, until the man was standing right behind Remus's back. Remus took a deep breath as he reached for another dish. He knew now it was only a matter of time until the spoon came down on the soft skin of his neck or face.

"Clint? Will you come read with me please?" Elen's sweet voice rang out from the kitchen door.

"Just a minute, sweety," Clint replied.

"Ah, pleeeease?" Elen came skipping across the kitchen and hugged Clint around the waste. "I want to read from Beetle, and I need you to do the voices," she said in a lilting voice.

"Can you wait just a minute?"

"But why? You're just watching him do the dishes." Remus couldn't see her, but he knew she must now be sticking out her lower lip slightly. He would have smiled at her antics if he hadn't be afraid that Clint would see.

Clint sighed. "Allllllright…" He turned around and started towards the living room with Elen. He paused to put the spoon down on the dish rack and grip Remus's shoulder painfully with his hand. "You had better finish those dishes _or else_," he whispered menacingly. He released Remus roughly and then followed Elen into the living room.

Remus took a deep breath as he continued washing. Soon, all the dishes were washed, dried and put away. He had twenty minutes until moonrise. Suddenly, he realized he should have washed a little slower. The less time he had left before moonrise, the less Clint would be able to hurt him. He took his time cleaning the sink, but there were still seventeen minutes left, and he knew he couldn't delay any longer.

He walked slowly into the living room, where Clint and Elen were taking turns reading "The Wizard and the Hopping Pot," making different funny voices for the characters, while Mother looked on happily. Remus stood there awkwardly for a moment, until Clint looked up. "Do you need something, boy?"

"Um… I-it's time for me to… go… you know… to the cellar."

Clint sighed in disgust, and Mother looked away towards the far window. Elen looked suddenly sad. Clint kissed Elen on the head and assured her he would be back in just a minute. Then he came and unlocked the cellar, pushing Remus roughly down the steps and following him in.

"Lumos maxima." The cellar was filled with a weak light. Remus reached the bottom of the steps and began taking his clothes off and folding them carefully, while Clint waved his wand in circles, muttering spells to reinforce the wards on the cellar. When they were both done, Clint looked at his watch and then nodded in satisfaction. Apparently he didn't need to leave right away.

He stared at Remus with distaste as he began to take his belt off. Remus backed away slowly, hoping that this beating wouldn't last very long.

"Boy, do you realize how much pain and suffering you cause this family?"

"Yes, sir."

"And why do you do it?"

"I… I don't know. I'm sorry, sir."

"That's not an answer. Why do you do this?"

"I can't help it, sir. I really can't."

CRACK! The belt fell around Remus's arm and side. "Of course you can't! This is who you are! A monster!" CRACK! CRACK! The belt fell time and time again. Remus fell to his knees and raised his arms to protect his head. A foot connected with his ribs and pushed him over onto the floor. The belt keep falling, and all Remus could do was wait for it to end.

Suddenly, he heard the clatter of the belt hitting the floor, and the next second, his stepfather was on top of him, wrapping his fingers around his neck. He pushed him against the floor and began to scream at him, spit flying. "Maybe this will be the night! Maybe this will be the night that you finally rip yourself to shreds. Maybe tomorrow morning, I will finally get to come down here and find your lifeless body covered in blood and your own spit. Maybe after tonight we will never have to look at you again!" Remus closed his eyes during his stepfather's tirade. He yelled the same things at him every month before moonrise, but it still chilled him to the bone. Finally, he stepfather released him. He paused to pick up his belt and Remus's clothes before storming out of the cellar and slamming the door. The light faded almost as soon as he left. Remus sat up and began to rub his back and shoulders, taking deep breathes and trying not to picture himself lying lifeless and bloody as his stepfather had described. He knew he needed to calm down. He suddenly felt his throat constrict as his eyes grew damp from pain and fear, but he pushed the feelings aside. Getting upset would only make the transformation worse.

Suddenly he was up, slamming his fists against the wall in front of him, yelling incoherently as the offensive bricks. He couldn't do it; he couldn't stay calm when his sanity was fleeting and he was about to be stripped of every scrap of humanity he had left. He hated himself, he hated his life, he hated his family… he hated the wolf. Over the next three minutes, his cries of anger and grief turned into screams of pain, which finally turned into howls. The cellar was not silent for the rest of the night.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, an followed this story. This chapter starts out as angsty as the first two, but it gets better, I promise!_

_Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters, places, and plot material belong to J.K. Rowling. I am not her._

* * *

The following morning, Remus's stepfather came down to the cellar, had fun kicking Remus around a bit, and then did some quick bandaging spells to stem the bleeding from his worse wounds. He wrapped him in an old, blood-stained sheet and levitated him up the stairs to the bathroom, where he put impermeable charms on the bandages and levitated Remus into a scalding hot shower. It was a normal, monthly routine. The water cleared Remus's mind a bit, and, by the time the shower was over, he was finally able to remember what day it was and why his body was hurting so badly.

His stepfather dried him with a drying charm and wrapped him in another sheet, not quite as blood-stained as the first, and levitated him up to the attic. Remus was placed on the cot. The first bloody sheet was deposited into a laundry basket, where all the transformation laundry would go until the boy was strong enough to wash it.

Next to the cot were two large jars and a plate. The first jar, near the head of the cot, was filled with water and had a small cup floating in it. The other jar, near the foot of the bed, was empty and had a vanishing charm on it, in case the boy needed to urinate. The plate, next to the water jar, was piled with bread, so the boy could eat when he needed to. There were also some extra bandages and a bottle of healing potion next to the bed. There was no pain relieving potion because, as Remus's parents had explained to him many times, werewolves don't really feel pain, at least not in the same way humans do, so no pain relieving potion was necessary. All these arrangements had been planned out over the years so that Remus could care for himself after his transformations, with as little attention from his parents as possible and without dying or making any other serious messes.

Remus's stepfather measured one dose of healing potion and levitated the liquid into the boy's mouth. "Swallow," he order. Remus did. The man recorked the bottle and placed it back under the bed.

Before leaving the attic, Clint reached down and pulled back the sheet covering the boy. "Boy, look at me!" The boy had already begun to slip off to sleep. He jabbed him in the cheek with the point of his wand. "Look at me!" The boy opened his eyes and gazed wearily at him. "What are you?"

The boy's eyes flicker away for a minute before he looked back at him and murmured, "A monster."

"Say it louder."

"I am a monster," they boy said weakly.

"That's right. You killed your own father. You hurt our family. You deserve everything that it happening to you right now. You are a monster."

He raised his wand and sent several stinging hexes down on the boy's body in quick succession. Remus groaned in pain and curled up into himself. The man smirked in satisfaction before turning to walk out of the room.

After a few minutes, Remus's groaning subsided as his mind gave in to exhaustion and he went to sleep.

* * *

In the dark, there was a creak from outside the attic door. Remus awoke from a light sleep and tried to sit up, but he was too sore. He knew it must be late, since he had already woken up twice today. At one point, he had taken some more healing potion and managed to pull on some old robes. The next time he had awoken, he had used the latrine jar and forced himself to eat a piece of bread. He wondered what time it was. Surely it wasn't morning yet.

Slowly, the attic door opened and he saw the soft glow of light. He sighed in relief and lay back down as his sister tip-toed into the room, holding the tea light in a jar that mother had giving her as a nightlight. "Hey, Elen," he whispered hoarsely.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"You don't look good. Did you lose a lot of blood?"

"Yeah, I guess I did. It's okay, though. I've been drinking plenty of water."

"Here, I brought some pain relief potion." She put her candle jar on the ground along with another small bundle and came to the head of the cot, holding a small potion glass. Remus took the glass and drank. Relief spread through his body, from his chest out into his limbs. "Thanks, Elen. You're the best."

"I brought you some meat from dinner, too," she said, reaching down to pick up the small bundle she had brought. "We had pork."

Remus sighed. "Did I mention you are my favorite sister?" he whispered, trying to sit up.

"I'm your only sister, silly. We should make you some sort of headboard up here," she said as she helped him lean his back against one of the open studs of the wall next to his cot.

"I'm fine," he whispered. Once he was settled, she put the napkin in his lap and unfolded it. He picked up a small piece of pork and began nibbling on it. His sister drew him a cup of water and glanced at the plate of bread.

"Have you been eating at all today?" she said as she sat down next to him.

"I had a couple of pieces of bread."

She nodded. They sat in silence for a few minutes while he ate. "Mom has been talking about the baby all day. She wants to name it after Clint's mom or dad, depending on whether it is a girl or boy of course."

"Oh. That's nice." Remus wasn't sure what to say, since he barely knew Clint's parents. He was usually kept in this room when they came to visit.

There were a few more seconds of silence. "I think I will hope for a girl," Elen said.

Remus concentrated on his meat. He didn't want to think about the new baby. Of course, it wasn't the little baby's fault that the family was messed up. It was more Remus's fault than any one's. It just felt weird to know that his mother and Helena were moving on, expanding their new family with Clint, without his father and, in many ways, without Remus. It wasn't the baby's fault at all; in fact, he ought to be happy for the new life.

"I think I will like it if it is a boy or a girl," he said, smiling at Elen. She smiled back.

There were a few more minutes of silence. "I've been reading the chess book that I got for Christmas," Elen said.

"Oh, really? Are you going to try to beat me?" Remus asked wryly. It was hard for the two of them to spend time together without their parents noticing, but when Mother was busy and Clint was at work, they would sometimes slip off into the attic or Elen's closet for a quiet game of chess.

"What, are you afraid of a challenge?" Elen replied sweetly. After a pause she whispered, "I might let you borrow it if you wanted to read it…"

"Really?"

"After I beat you a couple of times, of course." They both chuckled.

Finally, it was time for Elen to go back to bed. After Remus assured her several more times that he was fine and didn't need anything else, she give him a hug and told him good night.

* * *

Remus dragged himself out of bed around noon the next day. Clint was at work, and his mother never wanted to speak to him even to give him chores to do, so he had the afternoon to himself. He slipped into the living room while his mother was in the back garden and found his favorite volume of Greek magical history on the family bookshelf. He spent the afternoon relaxing in the attic in the company of Circe and Ptolemy.

At five o'clock, he went downstairs to return the book before Clint called him for his evening chores. As Remus slid the book back onto the shelf, he heard his parent's voices in the kitchen. It sounded like they were arguing. He turned to hurry back upstairs and out of the way, but then, he realized they were talking about him.

"Do you realize how much I _hate_ having that boy in our house?" Mother was saying.

"Of course I do, Martha, but isn't this why you kept him in the first place? To protect the world from him?"

"Well, he won't be running wild. Surely someone in that school has enough sense to keep him under control."

"If they had sense then they wouldn't be accepting him in the first place!"

"The letter says they will keep him contained."

"On the full moon, yes, but what about the rest of the month? Look, I've heard how people like Dumbledore talk. He wants to pretend that this boy is just like any other child, just a perfectly normal wizard child. He will have to have a wand! Can you imagine that boy with a wand?"

"He'll probably never manage to use it anyway."

"He might. Some werewolves have! And it only gives them more power to wreak destruction! The only safe werewolf is a dead werewolf, and since we are not allowed to kill him, we have to control him."

There was a pause before mother said quietly, "But what about our family?"

"What do you mean? We've managed his far."

"Clint, I realize it would be safer to keep him here, but I'm tired of living like this. I'm tired of having a creature that I _hate_ in my house. What about the baby? Can you imagine our baby growing up in the same house with that thing? This is our chance to start over! You, me, Helena, the baby, _our family_!"

"But what about the other children? Surely their parent's wouldn't..."

"What about _our_ children? Look, Dumbledore volunteered for this. I never volunteered for his. I had my little boy taken from me and replaced by a monster. Dumbledore _invited_ the creature into his school. If it turns out badly, it will be on his head."

There were several seconds of silence, during which Remus tried to make sense of what they had been saying. Then Clint said, "Ok, fine, he can go. If it means that much to you, he can go. If it turns out badly, it is on Dumbledore's head."

"Thank you, Clint."

Remus moved across the living room as quietly as possible, trying not to let them know he had been eavesdropping. Just as he reached the top of the stairs, he heard Clint walk out of the kitchen. He quickly spun around so that it would look like he had been coming down the stairs. It worked; Clint hadn't seen him.

"Boy!" he bellowed.

Remus took two cautious steps downwards. "Yes, sir?"

"Ah, there you are. What are you doing up there?"

"I was just coming downstairs, sir."

"Yes, well get down here. Your mother and I need to have a talk with you."

Remus walked into the kitchen as calmly as he could. He was certain that something very good or very bad was happening, but he wasn't sure which. His mother was sitting at the table staring at piece of parchment in her hand with a strange, longing look on her face. She looked up as he came in; her face immediately became passive, and she looked away towards the window.

Clint was standing next to the table glaring at him. Neither of them told him to sit, so he stayed standing near the doorway.

"Your mother received an owl today. From Hogwarts."

Remus stared at him, then glanced at the parchment his mother was holding, and then looked back at Clint.

"It seems that Professor Dumbledore, most esteemed headmaster of Hogwarts, is accepting you into his school."

Remus still didn't speak. He wasn't sure what he should say.

"We wrote back to him last week to explain about your… condition… and he wrote back to us to tell us that you could come to his school just like any other student." Clint waved his hand through the air as he talked, with an unmistakable tone of sarcasm, but Remus couldn't help but think that what he was saying was good.

"So… your mother and I have talked it over, and … we have decided that… if the school wants you, they can have you."

Remus swallowed. His stepfather didn't sound happy, but Remus was now sure that what he was saying was very, very good. Trying not to sound happy, Remus stammered, "Um, when do I leave?"

"September 1st."

"Oh. Um… what about… you know… I mean, did Professor Dumbledore say anything about… er, the full moon?"

"He says they will make _arrangements_," Clint said with a tone of disgust.

"Oh, okay." Remus looked at the ground.

"I don't want this to go to your head. You're not like the rest of us, you hear? When you get to that school, they are going to fill your head with a bunch of hogwash, but if you know what is good for you, you will remember where you belong."

"Yes, sir."

"Go to the cellar."

Remus's head jerked up in surprise, but he quickly lowered it and began shuffling towards the cellar. He should have known that news as good as this could not go by without punishment.

His stepfather followed him into the cellar. As soon as the door closed behind him, Clint roared and slammed his fist into the back of the boy's head, sending him half-stumbling, half-falling down the steps. The man came and stood over him on the cellar floor. "If you know what is good for you, you _had better_ remember where your place in this world. You are not a wizard, no matter what that crackpot professor tells you. You are an animal and nothing more. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Remus gasped.

The man began raining down punches, kicks, and spells. At first Remus tried to evade the blows, but he eventually gave up and covered his head as he waited for it to end.

By the time his stepfather was finished, his limbs could barely move, and his head couldn't seem to figure out which way was up. Finally, he heard the door slam as his stepfather left, and soon thereafter, he passed out.

* * *

He had no way of knowing how late it was when he finally dragged himself off the cellar floor and up the steps, but he couldn't hear any noise coming from the kitchen, so he decided it was safe to exit. Thankfully, the door wasn't locked (sometimes, if Clint was really angry, it would be), so he slipped out and stumbled through the empty kitchen.

He realized too late that the family was still up, congregated in the living room. When he saw them, he stopped in the doorway, wondering if he should retreat to the cellar. "What are you staring at, boy? Get upstairs!" Clint barked. Needing no second warning, Remus hurried across the room and up the stairs. Out of the corner of his eye, he could barely see Elen staring at him in horror.

Remus stopped in the hall bathroom to wash up and examine his injuries. He looked pretty rough, he realized, but couldn't bring himself to care. He washed his face, arms, and neck and wet a rag to take upstairs with him. Up in the attic, he stripped of his old robes. Amazingly, he didn't seem to have any broken bones, although his ribs did feel bruised. His stepfather had hit him twice with a boils hex, which had left his back and legs covered in oozing sores. He bathed them carefully with the rag and took some healing potion from the bottle next to his bed. He hoped that Elen would come up later with some ointment or pain relief potion. In the meantime, he could only try to sleep.

As he settled onto the cot, he thought back to what his parents had told him earlier. He was going to Hogwarts. The very thought of it sent a thrill through his body. He had often heard his parents telling Elen about Hogwarts and all of the wondrous things she would experience there someday, but it had been a forgone conclusion that Remus would never go there. He wasn't even a wizard, after all; he was a werewolf. He thought of the argument that he had overheard between Mother and Clint. What about the other children at school? Surely their parents wouldn't want a werewolf around them. Maybe they would make him sit in a special part of the classroom, all by himself. That wouldn't be so bad, he thought; at least he would be in the school.

His mother had taught him the alphabet letters and started to teach him to read before he had been bitten, but since the bite, she had never had much time for him. She had stopped sitting down to work with him at the kitchen table, and she had gotten angry whenever he asked her a question. After that, he had basically taught himself. He would sneak books from the bookshelf in the living room and sit for hours reading in quiet corners of the house. He collected whatever scraps of paper or parchment he could from around the house and wrote notes on them, pretending he was a famous historian, and kept them organized in an old biscuit box under his bed. Once Elen got old enough for Mother to teach her, he sometimes listened in on her lessons if they were interesting enough. Still, he never dreamed that he would be able to go to a real school with other students. He couldn't even imagine the sorts of things he might get to learn…

With his mind dreaming of books, teachers, and magic, he almost forgot about the throbbing in his ribs and legs. With every thought that flitted through his head, he sighed with happy anticipation. Finally, for the first time in ages, he drifted off to sleep with a small smile on his face.


End file.
